A Hypocrite's Prayer
How can it be that two opposite passions could rage within my soul? I love and I hate; I'm free and I'm bound. This wretched heart, it holds life and it holds death. It pumps to give my body health, but it sins to enslave my soul to evil. O, that I could pluck out all it's evil, all it's hatred, all it's sin. My flesh and soul they battle day and night; there is not rest within me whatsoever. O, that I could die to all my sin, my flesh. I am disgusted by my sin. I am full of sin, I cannot bear. Perfection mocks me, for I cannot reach it. I am alone in a dark desert and I cannot find a place to rest. Sleep has escaped me and I fear it won't return. O, that I could but change the things in me, the way I am. But lo, I'm far too weak, far too slow and far too vulnerable to speak. I am the worst of humans; I am not worthy of anything. I am not worthy of being warmed by the morning sunlight, or to be cooled off by the evening night fall. There is nothing on this e